


Take Me Home Tonight

by mycitruspocket



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Needs His Sleep, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Lingerie, M/M, Moving In Together, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, Sharing a Bed, angelic sex, celestial lovemaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-30 07:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20093881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: The days after the world didn’t end are the most peaceful in Aziraphale’s entire existence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy - from Hoop - Thanks dear for the motivation to write this! 
> 
> Many hugs for our dear kathy_the_reader for her beta work!
> 
> Title from Queen's Fat Bottomed Girls.
> 
> There will be at least one more chapter with another prompt fill as a sequel to this one, and the rating is going to get explicit when I add it.

The days after the world didn’t end are the most peaceful in Aziraphale’s entire existence. Crowley doesn’t leave his side, not once, and a shared lunch turns into dinner, a walk in the park turns into visiting the theatre, and another dinner turns into having breakfast. After about a week of indulging in all kinds of culinary and cultural pleasures that London has to offer, Crowley says he has to go to his flat because his plants need to be taken care of.

It suddenly hits Aziraphale that after spending sometimes decades, and even centuries without each other, parting ways with Crowley now feels just not right. This past week has been something out of a fantasy he’d never allowed himself to have. 

They had stopped by the bookshop after a visit at one of Aziraphale’s favourite cafes just down the street, and he’d already made plans where to take Crowley for dinner. Crowley, who had flopped right onto the sofa once they got here and is now failing to stifle a yawn.

“I need a decent nap too,” Crowley says, not looking at Aziraphale. “All this saving the world and celebrating is taking its toll at last, I fear.” 

And now that he mentions it, Aziraphale can see the tiredness Crowley must have tried very hard to hide. He himself has slept so rarely, that he forgot how much Crowley enjoys it, and apparently also needs it. He wonders how long Crowley will be gone. Hours? Days? Weeks, even? Unacceptable.

“You can bring them, you know. Your plants, I mean. There’s plenty of room upstairs, and, well, there’s a bed too,” he stammers, not really sure how to word his longing to keep Crowley close.

Crowley’s jaw drops, and for a few moments they just stare at each other. Crowley recovers first, smirking.

“Angel, are you asking me to move in here and share your bed?”

“I suppose I am, yes,” he admits, because there’s just no point in talking around it now. “I don’t sleep, the bed came with the flat, so it’s not really sharing.”

“It came with the flat?” Crowley asks in this high pitched tone of his, sounding somewhat disgusted and like he’s going to decline Aziraphale’s offer.

“You can bring your bed, if that’s more convenient for you. I don’t need one anyway,” Aziraphale adds quickly.

“Alright then.” Crowley snaps his fingers and suddenly the bookshop looks like a garden centre, with a beaming demon standing in its middle. A heap of black and burgundy clothes pooling at Crowley’s feet and he has the Mona Lisa sketch in one hand, a book in the other. ‘The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy’, Aziraphale can make out from where it’s loosely held in Crowley’s grip.

“I thought you didn’t read books,” he says fondly, although he knows it’s not true.

“I don’t,” says Crowley, his open smile telling Aziraphale that they both know there’s nothing left to say between them that the other doesn’t already know. “Now let me show you how nice a nap can be before we explore what else can be done in a shared bed.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes, his body coiled around Aziraphale in the most comfortable way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to the amazing kathy_the_reader, my beta-darling!
> 
> And also thanks to my dear Hoop for prompting me with "Female-presenting Crowley", which I originally wanted to explore much deeper. So I might get back to this verse for another chapter.

Crowley wakes, his body coiled around Aziraphale in the most comfortable way. For a while, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, only watches how his arm across Aziraphale’s chest rises and falls with his breaths. It’s a stark contrast, like everything else about them; his black, silk dressing gown over the beige tartan of the flannel pyjamas Aziraphale had miracled himself into. And yet, Crowley had known since the first time they spoke, that if they ever dared to be together like this, that it would feel perfect in any way. And it does.

He takes a few more timeless moments to relish the feeling of waking up in Aziraphale’s arms, and can’t wait for it to happen a million times more.

Finally, his eyes dart over to the watch on his wrist, which tells him they’ve been asleep for two days - or at least Crowley has been because, when he raises his head a little to look at his angel’s face, his eyes are open, watching him.

"Good morning," Aziraphale says, his words feeling warm in Crowley’s ears.

"It's late afternoon," is all Crowley manages to say huskily. 

Aziraphale smiles. “Oh is it? I hadn’t noticed.” It sounds dreamy, the way he’s saying it, making Crowley hope this isn’t one of his dreams. “Did you have a pleasant nap?”

Crowley rubs a hand over his face, then pushes himself up on one elbow to have a better look at Aziraphale, who looks like he hadn’t moved an inch since he lay down. “Never slept better,” Crowley admits because it’s true, even a decade-long nap was nothing compared to waking up like this.

“I’m glad.” Aziraphale raises a hand, brushing his fingers along Crowley’s cheekbones down to his lips. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a very long time, Crowley. But it’s never been quite the right time, for many reasons, so I never did.”

Aziraphale doesn’t take either his eyes nor his finger from Crowley’s lips, so he has a hunch - a wish - where this might be going. His heart does this very stupid hammery thing it does sometimes in close proximity to the angel, and not for the first time he fears that he can’t control himself any longer. Maybe he doesn't have to.

“Ask me, please,” Crowley says, voice low and trembling. 

Aziraphale finally looks back into his eyes, nodding. “May I kiss you?” he asks, and instead of answering, Crowley leans in.

Aziraphale sighs into his mouth and Crowley melts, sinks bonelessly back into the soft mattress. Everything feels lighter, a millennia-old burden finally resolving into nothing. Aziraphale follows his movement, slowly pushing Crowley onto his back, straddling him carefully. And then Crowley is reaching for him, so Aziraphale presses himself closer, settles on top of him, all while kissing him softly.

Crowley lets Aziraphale’s fingers play with the lapels of his dressing gown until they expose his chest, lets them brush through the soft hair and over his nipples. And when Aziraphale’s lips travel downward, Crowley lets go of the last bit of the restraint he’s built up so thoroughly, like a fortress, around his feelings and desires. 

The sounds escaping Crowley’s mouth are half whispers, half hisses. “Yesssss, angel,” he repeats over and over. And then, “Azzziraphale,” more a sigh now, when Crowley’s hands find his angel’s blond curls, caressing them indulgently.

Aziraphale plants kisses all over his ribs, then down Crowley’s side all the way to his bellybutton, nuzzling his nose in the fine hair trailing downward while stroking feather-light touches over his hip bones. Crowley shivers, raises his hips, desperate for the touch.

Aziraphale takes his time tracing the lace on Crowley’s burgundy knickers playfully, which makes Crowley’s currently manifested cock swell even more, straining the fabric obscenely. 

“You dress so beautifully my dear,” Aziraphale breathes over the bulge.

“Is… is this alright? I can change into whatever you like. Anything for you…”

“All of you is beautiful, my dear, no matter what you make it look like,” Aziraphale says gently. “I love you in any shape you feel comfortable in.” 

Crowley basks in the compliments, finally allowing himself to.

“Love,” he repeats so softly it’s not audible for human ears, but for an angel’s.

Aziraphale keeps stroking a path down Crowley’s inner thigh, making him squirm and moan and arch his back.

“As lovely as these are,” Aziraphale breathes over Crowley’s swelling cock trapped inside dark lace, “I’d like to take them off now, with your permission.”

“Please,” says Crowley, meaning nothing in particular and everything at once. 

“Hmm, as I said, absolutely beautiful, all of you,” Aziraphale whispers into the dark curls at the base of Crowley’s erection.

Crowley groans, as good as Aziraphale’s mouth feels there, he’d rather kiss him, have him closer, have him naked. “Come ’ere,” he manages, voice raw, and pulls on Aziraphale’s pyjama top until it vanishes and Aziraphale is there, kissing him again.

With their clothes gone, the angel feels even warmer, even heavier, even better on top of him, and they start moving together. Hands all over each other, lips everywhere, eyes mostly closed but sometimes watching the other in awe. 

Their cries of pleasure are muffled by their wings, wrapped around each other in an entirely different plane of existence.

-

“Is this what you meant by ‘explore what else can be done in a shared bed’?” Aziraphale asks when both their consciousnesses return to their earthly form and they find themselves entwined in Crowley’s bed. 

“We weren’t even in a bed for the whole thing,” Crowley laughs, still breathless even though there wasn’t any air where they’d been, and he doesn’t need to breathe anyway. “But that was my general idea, yes.”

“You have the best ideas,” Aziraphale whispers into his ear, licking at his earlobe and making Crowley shiver.

“Have I really?” he laughs again, it seems to have become a new habit.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale hums, mouthing at Crowley’s throat now. “Do you have another?”

“Oh yesss,” Crowley hisses, flipping a gasping angel onto his back, pinning him to the mattress. “A million more,” he says, delving in for a heated kiss.

  
  



End file.
